


Me, Myself, and the Devil

by orphan_account



Series: The Devil You Know [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Doctor/Patient, M/M, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Violence, Zarry - relationship, psychiatrist!Zayn, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Because we both know exactly why you’re here. And I need you to know that you are <em>not</em> in control.”</p><p>He laughed and leaned towards the doctor. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I am <em>completely</em> in control of what happens here, Dr. Malik.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sociopaths have a superficial charm and are often very attractive.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired slightly by the new show "Hannibal" on NBC on Thursdays at 10/9c
> 
> (Note: This work does not contain cannibalism, but does contain some graphic depictions of violence. Viewer discretion is advised.)

 

“I’m not going to pretend like I don’t know why you’re here, like I do with my other patients.”

“Why do you pretend not to know for other patients?”

“It makes them feel in control. They tell me what they want me to know, unaware that I already know everything they’re about to tell me.”

“And why aren’t you treating me like every other patient?”

“Because we both know exactly why you’re here. And I need you to know that you are _not_ in control.”

He laughed and leaned towards the doctor. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I am _completely_ in control of what happens here, Dr. Malik.”

 

***

2 Weeks Earlier

Zayn Malik had a routine. He woke up at five-thirty each morning, kissed a sleeping Harry on the temple, grabbed a cup of coffee, made toast, scrambled eggs, and read the morning paper. He went to work at his self-owned psychiatrist office and met with patients and filled out paperwork. Every once in a while he was called in to do a psych evaluation for returning agents and suspects for the F.B.I. He kept to himself for the most part, had only a few close friends, including his boyfriend of two years, Harry, and was very good at his job.

It was on a regular Tuesday morning, while he was reading the morning paper and drinking his morning coffee, that his phone rang. At first, he assumed it was Perrie, his secretary, giving him advice about a new patient or telling him a patient had cancelled their appointment for the day. However, it was Agent Benjamin Laurence from the B.A.U. in Quantico, Virginia.

“Hello, Doctor.”

“Agent Laurence, how can I be of assistance?”

“We have a case and are in need of a psychiatrist.”

“What kind of case?”

“Have you heard of the Brooklyn Ripper?” Agent Laurence asked. Zayn recalled an article he’d read in the New York Times about the Ripper. It said his victims had been so cleverly cut that he’d missed every vital organ and that their last moments in life had been absolute pain. They would have been aware of everything going on, but would have been completely immobile.

“Yes,” Zayn replied warily.

“We caught him.” Agent Laurence said grimly. “At first, we just thought it was some sadist who had learned a few tricks by the internet.”

“But?”

“But, he’s not crazy, Dr. Malik. At least, he doesn’t really appear to be. He’s…human.”

“Did you expect him not to be?” Zayn asked, jokingly.

“That’s not what I mean. I meant that he’s…he’s polite, intelligent, and guilt-free.”

“Sociopath?”

“I don’t know, Dr. Malik. We’d really appreciate it if you’d come to Brooklyn and…speak with him?”

“What’s his name?”

“Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson.” Agent Laurence responded. Zayn sighed.

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but I’ll see what I can do.” Zayn replied after a moment of hesitation. Harry wouldn’t like this.

## ۞

Zayn met Harry a week after he’d opened his practice. It was before he got his secretary, Perrie, to get him his coffee, leaving him to fend for himself. He was new to New Haven, and hadn’t had a lot of time to scout out the best coffee houses, so he went to the one only a few blocks from his office.

Upon entering, he was assaulted by the delicious scents of coffee beans, chocolate, and freshly baked bread. There was a small line in front of the counter that told Zayn it was probably a well-liked coffee house. He mentally applauded himself on his life choices.

“Next,” a curly haired, doe-eyed boy called and Zayn stepped up to order. “Haz, can you take over?” He asked, turning around and Zayn waited patiently whilst the first boy left and was replaced by an incredibly handsome, dark and curly haired, green eyed boy that left Zayn just a little bit speechless. Which wasn’t a typical thing. Zayn always knew what to say and when to say it. It was all part of his work, knowing how to read people. But those skills slid right out the window at the sight of this new boy who had flour in his hair and a smear of chocolate on his cheek.

“How can I help you?” He asked, flashing Zayn a bright grin. Zayn stuttered out his order, all the while fixated on the dimples in the boy’s face. The boy continued to grin and rang it up before grabbing for a coffee holder.

“What’s your name?” He asked, black sharpie marker in hand.

“Oh, um, Zayn,” Zayn replied. Then, without thinking, he added, “And it’s 603-555-8124.” Harry raised an eyebrow, his marker frozen after writing down the ‘n’ in his name.

“What?” He asked, staring up at Zayn. He shrugged, deciding to just go with it.

“It’s my cell number. So…you can call me.” Harry blushed a deep crimson and a small smile played on his lips. A customer behind Zayn cleared their throat and muttered out ‘this is bloody ridiculous. Fags.’ Zayn turned sharply and stared at the twenty year old guy behind him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are we bothering you? I can assure you that this could potentially be far more important than the Doctor Who marathon your friends are throwing at your parents house.” The boy gaped at him, unsure how Zayn could have _possibly_ known about that. Zayn turned back to Harry just as he handed him his coffee. Zayn winked at him and he giggled, honest to god, _giggled_.

“I’ll definitely call you.” He whispered before turning back to the next customer. Zayn returned to his office in high spirits. He had a lot of things to do. He had to get set up with a few clients, look for a secretary, and set up his study. But the thought of the dimpled boy from the coffee house left a small smile permanently etched into his face.

It was later, whilst Zayn was manually shoving the heavy bookcase into place, his phone buzzed from its position on his desk. He assumed it was Danny or Ant asking when he was stopping by, but instead, it was a number he didn’t recognize.

**(603) 555-2881**

_Is this Zain?_

**Zayn**

_***** _ _Zayn, and yes, it is. Who is this?_

**(603) 555-2881**

_It’s Harry from the café. Xx_

Zayn grinned down at his phone, thoughts of the curly haired boy rising to the surface.

**Zayn**

_Hello Harry I’m glad you texted_

**Harry**

_There’s no way I couldnt! In case u haven’t noticed, ur kind of gorgeous xx_

Zayn blushed and typed out a response, telling Harry that he was one to talk. They continued to text for a long time, enough time that Zayn completely abandoned the bookcase and sat himself down in his plush office chair.

Eventually, flirtatious texts turned into late-night phone calls which then resulted in Zayn asking Harry on a date, much to the encouragement of Danny and Ant.

 

He took Harry to a posh restaurant that Ant had recommended. They talked for a long time, just getting to know each other more, when Harry asked the inevitable question.

“So, what do you do? Like, for a living?” Zayn looked over at him, but made no move to answer. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, come on. I’m not going to buy that you’re unemployed, seeing as this is a very nice restaurant and you’ve already told me about your secretary. So, what do you do?” Again, Zayn didn’t answer.

“Do you want me to guess?” Harry asked enthusiastically. “Let me see, it has to be something embarrassing, otherwise you wouldn’t be hiding it. Okay, let’s see, a garbage man? No? Um, a rodeo clown? Okay…A nude model for NYU?” Zayn barked out a laugh at that and Harry grinned at him, dimples on display for all to see. “Well, come on, then. What is it?”

“Usually, when I tell people, they think I’m odd. Or, like, mental.”

“Try me,” Harry pushed.

“I’m a psychiatrist.” Zayn finally admitted. Harry eyed him curiously, as if thinking long and hard about this. Finally, he nodded and continued eating. Zayn continued to watch him, and when he finally looked back up, he quirked an eyebrow.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me right now?” He asked and Zayn laughed.

“No! Why does everyone always assume that’s what I’m doing?”

“Well, you said it yourself, you’re a psychiatrist. Your job is to get inside other people’s heads, right? That explains how you knew that guy at the café was having a Doctor Who marathon at his parents’ house. Tell me, how did you know?” Harry asked, smiling brightly at him, genuinely curious. Zayn liked him enough to entertain him.

“His phone kept buzzing, which means someone was trying to get his attention. He was in a hurry, more than likely getting more than one coffee. The other coffee, or coffees, belonging to whoever was trying to get a hold of him. He had the look of someone who hadn’t slept in the last twenty-four hours, and he used old English like he was British, when he was clearly American. Meaning, he’d probably spent a while, in the dark, watching something British. The most popular British programming is Harry Potter, Sherlock, and Doctor Who. Harry Potter was my first choice, but usually, people watch television marathons on week nights rather than movies, so I went with Sherlock and Doctor Who.”

“How did you decide between those two?” Harry asked. Zayn was impressed. Usually, when he was explaining his process, people tuned out in confusion.

“I guessed that last bit. Doctor Who has a bigger audience, so it was the likeliest decision. Obviously, I was right.”

“Wow,” Harry breathed, and it wasn’t until then that Zayn realized that they had unconsciously been leaning towards each other to the point that their faces were awfully close. Neither showed signs of leaning away, either. The air felt charged, to the point that Zayn didn’t have to be a psychiatrist to deduct where this date was leading.

“Do you…want to come back to mine?” Zayn finally asked and Harry was quick to nod. Zayn paid the bill and then they were in the cab. By the time they arrived at Zayn’s apartment, Harry’s hand had slid from his knee up to his upper thigh and he was uncomfortably hard in his pants. He tugged Harry upstairs after paying the cab fare.

When he woke up the next morning, he was slightly terrified that Harry had left, but he was snuggled into the sheets, his curls a mess across the pillow. He’d moved in four months later and they’d never looked back.

## ۞

“No. Absolutely not.” Harry stood with his back against the kitchen sink, his arms crossed in front of him. Zayn sighed, shifting in his chair.

“Harry, this is my _job_.”

“I realize that, okay. But I don’t like the idea of you having anything to do with this guy. I’ve read the papers, Zayn. I know what he’s capable of.”

“Harry-”

“No. This is not up for negotiation.” Harry said stubbornly. It was a trait that Zayn both loved and hated about him.

“Harry, I have to go.”

“No, you don’t. You can tell him that you can’t.” Harry replied, glaring over at him. Zayn sighted again and stood, walking over to him and wrapping his arms around him. Harry resisted for a moment before falling into the embrace.

“It’ll just be for a day or two. I’m just going to examine him and then he’ll be sent his way and nothing will change. Okay?”

“I don’t like it.” Harry mumbled into his neck. Zayn drew small circles into his back in response. Eventually, Harry came around and Zayn called Perrie to tell her to cancel his appointments for the next couple of days.

The next morning he tossed his packed bags into the back of his car, kissed Harry goodbye and drove out of Connecticut and down to New York. He met Agent Laurence later that afternoon at the Brooklyn Police Department where they were holding Mr. Tomlinson.

“It’s good to see you again, Dr. Malik.”

“The same to you, sir. Where is he?” Agent Laurence led him into a small interrogation room and told him to a wait a moment. After a few minutes, the door opened again and a man was brought inside.

He was small, only about five foot six, with brown hair and intelligent blue eyes. He sat down across from Zayn, his handcuffs clanging together occasionally.

“Hello, Mr. Tomlinson.”

He didn’t respond.

“My name is Dr. Malik. I’m a psychiatrist.”

“Ah, a shrink.” Louis said, watching Zayn with a strange look in his eyes. Almost predatory. “You’re here to look inside my head, yes?”

“I…suppose. In a manner of speaking.”

“And you’re here to find out why I killed those people.”

“I am.”

“Well,” Louis replied, his fingers sliding together and landing gently in his lap. Zayn expected him to continue, but he said no more, just continued to stare back at Zayn.

“Where are you from, Mr. Tomlinson?” Zayn finally asked, leaning back in his chair to appear at ease, to let Louis know he wasn’t phased by the fact that he was seated across from a serial killer.

“A small town in Minnesota. Probably one you’ve never heard of.”

“I can assure you, you’re probably right. I’ve never paid much attention to Minnesota.”

“Where are _you_ from, _Doctor_ Malik?” Louis sneered out the word ‘doctor’ and Zayn did his best not to blink at the comment.

“New York City, just a few blocks from here,” Zayn replied easily. “But we’re not here to discuss _me_.”

“Oh, but I think we should.” Louis said with a devilish glint in his eye.

After another hour of getting nothing but useless answers, Louis was brought back to his holding cell and Zayn met Agent Laurence in one of the offices.

“Anything?”

“He was unresponsive to anything involving the case or the murders. He seemed very curious in _me_ , however.” Zayn said. Laurence sighed and nodded.

“Well, thank you for your help. I should let you get back to Harry.”

“What is going to happen to Mr. Tomlinson?” Zayn couldn’t help but be curious.

“He’ll go to trial, and I’m sure it’ll be a quick one, and then off to either some mental institution or prison.”

Zayn drove back to New Haven that night and fell into bed with Harry, all thoughts of Louis Tomlinson and the Brooklyn Ripper momentarily forgotten.

The next week, Zayn went back to his usual patients. He didn’t spare much thought to Louis Tomlinson, just continued with his practice like normal. It wasn’t until two weeks after his meeting with Louis that he was just about to finish up some paper work and head out of the office early when there was a knock at his office door.

“Come in,” he called, not looking up from the papers on his desk.

“Dr. Malik, you have a patient coming in, in about fifteen minutes.” Perrie said, biting her lip nervously. Zayn furrowed his brow.

“I don’t recall having anymore patients to see today.” He replied.

“I just got a call from a lawyer who needs his client examined for any psychological problems.”

“Ah, so he wants me to plead insanity on his client’s behalf.”

“More than likely,” Perrie agreed.

“Alright, fifteen minutes you said?”

“Yes, sir,” Perrie said before closing the door. Zayn sighed and rubbed at his face before standing and making sure that his office was ready for another patient. At exactly twenty minutes past two, there was an authoritative knock at the door. The door opened and a pristine looking man entered.

“Dr. Malik, my name is Jonathon Link, and I would like you to be the psychiatrist for my client. He asked for you. By name.” Mr. Link said. Zayn frowned. He’d done this sort of thing before, but he’d never had a client ask for him specifically.

“A-alright.” Zayn said slowly. Jonathon turned and addressed someone outside the door.

“Sir, you can come in, now.” And then, Louis Tomlinson walked through the door and locked eyes with Zayn.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Zayn said, attempting to keep his voice calm. “I must say, I’m surprised to see you again so soon.”

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Louis’s lawyer said, stepping out the door. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half.” Then, he closed the door and Zayn was alone with Louis Tomlinson for the second time in two weeks.

“Please, sit.” Zayn said, motioning to the two chairs and one couch in the bigger area of his office. Louis chose the couch. Zayn noted this as a show of rebellion. Most people chose to sit in one of the chairs in order to feel as if they weren’t seeing a psychiatrist and were simply talking with a friend. By choosing the couch, Louis was stating that he knew that he was the patient and that Zayn was the doctor and he wanted Zayn to know it.

Zayn took a seat in the chair directly across from the couch and looked over at Louis. Louis didn’t move, just locked his ice blue eyes on Zayn’s brown eyes and stared.

“I’m not going to pretend like I don’t know why you’re here, like I do with my other patients.” Zayn finally said, crossing one leg over the other and sitting back in his chair. Louis smiled wickedly back over at him.

“Why do you pretend not to know for those patients?” He asked innocently.

“It makes them feel in control. They tell me what they want me to know, unaware that I already know everything they’re about to tell me.”

“And why aren’t you treating me like every other patient?” Louis asked, now seeming a bit more interested.

“Because we both know exactly why you’re here. And I need you to know that you are _not_ in control.”

He laughed and leaned towards the doctor. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I am _completely_ in control of what happens here, Dr. Malik.” And, well.

“Do you like games, Dr. Malik?” And there it was again, him sneering the word ‘doctor’ as if to mock Zayn.

“Sometimes,” he responded honestly. “It depends on what we’re playing.” Then, suddenly, Louis was in his space, grabbing the notepad from his hand and then moving back to the couch in a flash.

“We’re going to play Doctor/Patient. I’ll be the doctor, and you are the patient.”

“And what makes you think I’ll agree to play this little game of yours?”

“Because,” Louis said, “You want to know why I did what I did.” He smiled. “You can’t expect me to tell you my secrets if you’re not willing to share your own.”

Zayn thought about this for a moment, weighing the dangers of playing this game with him. Deciding that things couldn’t really get worse, he decided to indulge him.

“Alright, I’ll play this game with you.”

“Good. Now, let’s begin with something simple, shall we?” Louis asked. He paused for a moment, as if pondering what question to ask, before he spoke. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Three.” Zayn replied. “Three sisters. And you?” Louis shook his head.

“I’m the psychiatrist now, _Zayn_. You’ll get your turn.”

It was then that Zayn started to regret not listening to Harry.

 


	2. Sociopaths are incapable of feeling remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He knew where the body was, Zayn. The question is, whose body is it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note: This work contains some graphic depictions of violence and sexual content. Viewer discretion is advised.)

 

Zayn's first patient had been a young woman by the name of Eleanor Calder. She had at one time been a model, but she'd slowly sunk into a deep depression.

Zayn's hardest patient had been a man named Thomas Parker. Tom was a skinny, brunette, paranoid schizophrenic. His illness was so bad that on several occasions he'd tried to attack Zayn. His handler, a man named Scooter, had always gotten in the way just in the knick of time.

The patient that everybody was talking about, however, was Zayn's latest patient. Louis Tomlinson. Zayn's face was printed in every major newspaper and magazine in the state, as well as a few others. Not only had he been the one to testify in court on Mr. Tomlinson's mental illness, he was continuing to be Louis' doctor whilst he was in the asylum. Well, God help Zayn when the articles came out, because he hadn't told Harry. Needless to say, Harry was furious.

**۞**

"You can't be serious!" Harry exclaimed, pacing the living room whilst Zayn was seated on the couch. "I mean, I agreed to let you go to Brooklyn, I stepped aside for the two sessions a week thing. But that was because he was supposed to _go away_ after the trial! I do _not_ want you driving to a fucking mental hospital so some psycho can ask you questions."

Against his better judgment, he'd told Harry about how he hadn't actually talked to Louis at all about him or what he'd done, but instead, he'd been the one answering questions.

"Harry-"

"Don't you fucking start." Harry glared at him. "Say no, Zayn."

"I've already agreed." This caught Harry's attention. His mouth opened to reply then closed again. His eyes were big and green and he looked as if he was about to cry. Zayn hated it when he cried.

"You made the decision without even asking me first." It wasn't a question, so Zayn didn't answer. "We're supposed to be a _team_ , Zayn. That's what a relationship _is_." Harry turned and left the room. Zayn sighed and rubbed at his face before getting up and following him into the bedroom.

"Haz, he needs help."

"He needs to go fucking die is what he needs." Harry spat back. His eyes widened at the words and he slapped a hand over his mouth. Zayn took an involuntary step back. He'd never heard something that hostile come out of Harry's mouth. Harry collapsed onto the bed and hid his face behind his hands. Zayn climbed up behind him and started gently rubbing at his shoulders.

"It's only once a week for an hour and a half. He needs _help_ , Harry."

"There are other doctors who can help him, Zayn. Doctors right there at the hospital!"

"He specifically asked for me."

"And that doesn't strike you as strange?" Harry asked, turning around to face him on the bed. Zayn's hands dropped from his shoulders. His dark eyes met green.

"It is strange, but _he's_ strange! I haven't asked him any questions he'll answer yet."

"Exactly!" Harry exclaimed. "You've been letting _him_ play psychiatrist while you just go along with it! What the fuck is that all about?"

"It's about letting him think he can play me, Harry. I'm going to beat him at his own game."

"By telling him personal things about yourself? Yeah, great idea there." Harry said sarcastically.

This time, when Zayn left, he didn't have the comfort of Harry's blessing.

**۞**

"What is your favorite color, _Doctor_ Malik?" Louis asked, notepad in hand. He was wearing glasses. At first, Zayn had assumed he was mocking psychiatrists and doctors in general, but upon a closer look at his medical records, he clearly needed them.

"Maroon." Zayn listed off, a bit bored by the constant stream of useless answers. However, the answer seemed to intrigue Louis.

"Really?"

"Yes?" Zayn phrased it as a question. His first question of the day.

"'The color maroon means harsh experience has probably matured the Maroon person into someone likable and generous. It is often a favorite color of someone who has been battered by life but has come through.'" It sounded as if he was quoting something he'd read. Probably was. Whether or not it was, it was pretty spot on as to who Zayn was.

"What life experiences have you battled, _Doctor_ Malik?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

"What is ordinary, though? Ordinary means normal, correct? And no one is really normal. Not even you." Louis said, as if he were a teacher scolding an arrogant student. "We're finally getting to the good questions, Dr. Malik!" He said happily. "What life experiences have you battled? What made you become a psychiatrist?"

"I was abused as a child." Louis tutted.

"That's rather unoriginal, isn't it? By your father?"

"No. By my foster father. My parents died two days after I was born."

"Now _that_ is interesting. How did they die?"

"Car accident."

"Eh, still unoriginal. Anyways, you were abused, and then what? Did you tell?"

"No. I've never told anyone." Besides Harry, but that was beside the point. Louis didn't need to know about Harry.

"So he's still a foster parent?"

"I think so."

"And you never said a word? Even now, that you're a respectable doctor who could actually make a difference?" This seemed to intrigue Louis more than it should.

"Because I've learned that bad people do bad things. He's old and he'll die soon."

"But what about all the other children he's more than likely hurt? You're willing to let others suffer?"

"He never hurt another child."

"And you know this how?"

"Most people believe a threat when you beat them over the head with a baseball bat." Zayn said. Louis froze and their eyes locked. It was as if Louis had gained a small amount of respect for him. Zayn was a little disgusted with himself. Since when did he strive to gain approval from a serial murderer?

"You threatened to..."

"I threatened to tell the cops. Like you said, unoriginal."

"Most boys wouldn't have been so brave."

"I was."

And then, suddenly, Louis was standing and handing him the notepad.

"Alright, psychiatrist. It's time to do your job. I'm giving you ten minutes."

 

**۞**

"It starts with finding the perfect family. Those unoriginal bastards who have everything they could ever want and still want more. It's disgusting. The first family, the Kavenaughs, were so _easy_. They didn't even lock their doors at night. It was so simple to just walk right in. But I didn't want it to be simple. I wanted them to know I was there.

"They were eating dinner when I did it. All of them, just sitting at the table. All except for the older boy. They didn't even hear me come inside. They were laughing about something, I didn't hear what. But the girl, the youngest, she saw me when I stepped into the kitchen. I think she must have thought I was someone else, because she didn't scream. I think she might've thought I was her brother's friend.

"I had a gun. I pulled it out and pointed it at the father. The two girls screamed, but I didn't care. I had their daddy where I wanted him.

"I told them to go into the living room. I tied the two girls to the coffee table leg. I tied Mr. and Mrs. Kavenaugh's hands behind the backs of their chairs. Then I went upstairs and found the oldest son. He was an oddball, I'd noticed. Didn't really fit in with the rest of his family. But when I came in with the gun, he lunged for me. I think he was trying to be heroic. I was stronger, though. I shot him in the knee and dragged him down to the living room. I let him sit on the floor.

"I did Mr. Kavenaugh first, so they'd all watch. There are quite a few places to cut on the human body that don't bleed quickly. I let them watch him bleed for a long time. Then I did the son. I needed the men out of the way, because I knew if anyone was going to try and be brave, it would be the men.

"Mrs. Kavenaugh was next. I slit that bitch up and watched as she cried, completely immobile. The two little girls were difficult, I'll admit. The first little girl tried to run when I untied her, but I smashed the gun over her head and she crumpled to the ground like a trampled flower petal. The second little girl wouldn't stop her fucking crying, so I think I cut her up just to make her stop.

"By the time I'd done both of the girls, Mr. Kavenaugh was barely breathing at all. His son was making this awful whimpering sound. It was pathetic.

"I looked each of them in the eye as I stood over them, watching them bleed onto the nice hardwood floor. It had all taken a little more than an hour to complete. The Kavenaughs were the easiest and the hardest. After them, it was easier to watch them die. To watch them bleed. To know that they would know how I felt every day."

"How do you mean?" Zayn asked, having written his entire testimonial down. Louis just smiled.

"You had ten minutes, Dr. Malik. Thirty seconds remain, and you're not asking the most important question.

"And what is that?"

"What did I do with the boy?"

 

**۞**

Zayn poured himself into the shower at eleven o'clock that night. His head was pounding from his conversation with Louis and Detective Laurence. According to the case files, Andrew Kavenaugh was missing when the police arrived. According to Louis, he was at the bottom of Bay Ridge in Brooklyn. Searchers were there now, trying to find the body. Zayn wasn't hoping much. It'd been four months since Louis had slaughtered that family. Andrew was probably long gone by now.

He was exhausted and his body was tense. He'd felt this way since Louis' confession in the asylum. His words had been cutting, remorseless. The epitome of a sociopath.

He was startled when the door to the shower opened and hands were grabbing his body, but he immediately relaxed when he realized it was Harry. His hands kneaded the tense muscle on Zayn's shoulders and he sighed, relaxing even more into the gentle touch of his boyfriend.

"Someone's tense." Harry murmured.

"Well, working with serial killers can do that to a person." Zayn mumbled back, his eyes drooping shut at the amazing feeling of the massage.

"You know," Harry said, his hands sliding to Zayn's waist and his lips brushing over where his hands had previously been on his shoulders. "It's been a _really_ long time since we've had shower sex." He whispered in Zayn's shoulder. Zayn chuckled lightly before turning and wrapping his fingers in his boyfriend's hair, connecting their lips in a heated kiss. Harry moaned appreciatively and reached his hands to Zayn's thighs, pulling him up. Zayn wrapped his legs around Harry's waist and was pushed into the wall of the shower.

Afterwards, once they'd stumbled into bed still dripping from the shower, Zayn thought back to Louis' words at the asylum. _"The second little girl wouldn't stop her fucking crying. I think I cut her up just to make her stop."_ Zayn shivered involuntarily and Harry's arm tightened protectively.

"Go to sleep, Zayn. Whatever's going on, you can deal with it in the morning."

Zayn slept then, dreams of screaming children and Louis with a gun dancing in his head. He was awoken two hours later by his phone blaring from the bathroom. He lifted his head from where it was resting on Harry's chest and groaned. He got out of bed and grabbed for his phone, hitting the answer button without glancing at the screen.

"'Lo?"

"Dr. Malik?" It was Agent Laurence and he sounded grave.

"Has something happened? Did they find Andrew?"

"Yes and no."

"Agent?"

"We found a body, but it's not Andrew Kavenaugh's. I'm afraid we're going to need to speak with Mr. Tomlinson."

"About?" Zayn could see Harry was sitting up in bed, staring over at him.

"He knew where the body was, Zayn. The question is, whose body is it?"

"How do you know this isn't something totally random? It's not very hard to dump a body in the bay, Agent." He could see Harry cringe from his position.

"Does it feel like something totally random to you?" Zayn sighed.

"No," he responded. He agreed to meet Agent Laurence at the asylum at six and hung up. He crawled back into bed beside Harry, but sleep was far from his mind.

"They found a body?" Zayn nodded. "And they think it has something to do with Louis?" Another nod.

"Well, isn't this just _great_." Harry said, rolling onto his side, his back to Zayn. Zayn felt awful, knowing that Harry had been trying to keep him from his exact same predicament. He made a mental note to start listening to Harry more before falling asleep.

 


	3. Sociopaths are incapable of love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet Smith had been working at the asylum for many years. She'd seen many different things. She'd worked with serial killers, violent schizophrenics, and people with multiple personality disorders. She'd seen death and healing and she'd done it all without a hint of emotion. She was immune to their suffering. She'd learned long ago that caring for these people would be the death of her sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tech stuff and description of Louis' cell are made up and I'm not sure if they're true at all in real life. But for the sake of the story, let's just pretend they are.
> 
> (Note: This work contains some graphic depictions of violence and sexual content. Viewer discretion is advised.)

 

"Dr. Malik, how very nice to see you again." Louis said upon Zayn's arrival at the asylum at six-fifteen the next morning. Zayn was dead tired, but the only way Agent Laurence could speak with Louis was with Louis' psychiatrist present. Wonderful.

"Sit down." Zayn said curtly, pulling a chair up to sit outside his cell. Agent Laurence had called and said he was running a bit late. Louis eyed him carefully before sitting daintily at the end of his bed. He didn't speak, just continued to stare at Zayn. Zayn closed his eyes and leaned back. He and Harry had given up sleep around five that morning. Harry hadn't spoken to him until he'd said he was going for a run with Liam at a quarter to six. Zayn knew he was in trouble, since Harry absolutely despised running.

"Rough night?" Zayn's eyes snapped open and watched the smirk appear on Louis' face.

"I think you have a good idea why that is." He replied just as the sound of footsteps sounding in the hallway. Louis continued to smile as Agent Laurence appeared, a bit out of breath.

"I apologize for my late arrival. We ID'd the body." They both glanced at Louis who was staring at them both with a glint in his eyes.

"Mr. Tomlinson," Agent Laurence said, turning to face him completely. "Who is Stan Lucas?"

"I haven't the faintest idea." Louis replied, though the look on his face suggested he knew _exactly_ who Stan Lucas was.

"Louis-"

"Mr. Tomlinson." Agent Laurence said, sufficiently cutting of Dr. Malik. "Withholding information from the FBI is a federal crime and you could be tried in court."

"I've already _been_ tried in court, _Agent Laurence_. That's why I'm here." Louis said with laughter evident in his voice. Zayn remained silent. He was furious at Louis for playing games and he was furious at himself for getting involved in this mess. It was ruining his relationship and causing him to get little sleep and he really, _really_ wanted to strangle Louis. The thought frightened him, because he was usually an extremely nonviolent guy, much like Harry.

"He's a friend of a friend." Louis said, snapping Zayn out of his thoughts. "Or, at least, he _was_."

"Whose friend?"

"That is absolutely none of your business." Louis snapped, anger flashing in his eyes for a moment before he locked his gaze on Zayn.

"Did you kill him?" Agent Laurence asked. Louis' eyes didn't move from Zayn's when he responded.

"You'll never know."

 

**۞**

"Honestly, dude, he's pissed." Danny said. Harry was hanging out with Liam that night. He said it was because he barely saw him lately, but Zayn knew it was because they were fighting.

"I'm not sure what he expected! I mean, it's my _job_ , Danny!" Zayn said, taking a long pull of his cigarette. They were walking through the Paradee Rose Garden, about three blocks from Harry and his apartment. Danny gave him _the look_. The look that said: You're an idiot and you're being a pathetic little prat.

"Okay, but I mean, I'd be pissed too if you missed our two year anniversary." Danny said with a shrug.

"What are you talking about? Mine and Harry's two year anniversary is..." Danny raised an eyebrow at him.

"Shit."

"Yeah, dude. Congrats."

"Fuck, no wonder he came-"

"Stop, stop!" Danny said, waving a hand at Zayn. "I don't need to know the details of your sex life, man."

"So what do I do?"

"Well, whenever I get in a fight with Michelle-"

"Dude, you fight with Michelle, like, once a week. Ant tells me all the time how annoying it is when you two-"

"Do you want my advice, or not?" Danny said, scowling.

"Yeah, yeah, couldn't hurt."

"Go home, make him dinner, or, rather, buy dinner. You can't cook worth shit. Decorate the apartment and _woo him_. Make him remember _why_ he's been with you for two years."

"You know, that's not a bad idea."

"Well, _duh_." Danny said, grabbing Zayn's cigarette and taking a pull before handing it back. "I've never had a bad idea in my life." They laughed and split ways, Danny heading to a gig with Ant and Zayn to go buy dinner from the Chinese place down the street from their apartment that Harry loved.

At nine that night, Zayn called Harry and asked him to come home in his best kicked puppy voice. The voice Harry couldn't ever say no to. He'd decorated the apartment with candles and the cartons of delicious smelling Chinese food were waiting on the coffee table. The sound of the door unlocking sounded ten minutes later and Zayn knew it was all worth it the minute Harry stepped inside and his eyes lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

"Oh my god," he said, pulling of his jacket and staring around the apartment. Zayn was sitting on the couch, smiling apologetically at him and holding up a carton of food. Harry grinned back at him, his dimples sitting adorably on his cheeks, and sat next to Zayn on the couch. Zayn leaned over and kissed him, long and slow, and Harry sighed happily into the kiss.

"I'm sorry for being an ass." Zayn said softly, his lips brushing against Harry's as he spoke. Harry shook his head, his curls tickling Zayn's forehead.

"It's isn't all you." He said, leaning back and biting his bottom lip. "I hate to admit it, but I was kind of...jealous of Louis?"

"What?" Zayn asked, his brow furrowing.

"I mean, you've been spending all your time with him and....I don't know." Harry said, looking at the floor.

"Well, we have tonight." Zayn said, smiling over at him. "So, Chinese?"

 

**۞**

"God, I love you." Zayn said as Harry rolled off of him after hitting his climax. Harry laughed and took a shaky breath. Zayn turned to face him, tangling their legs together underneath the sheet.

"I love you, too." Harry murmured, pulling Zayn close and kissing his forehead. Zayn opened his mouth to speak when his phone buzzed on the nightstand next to the bed. Zayn sighed and reached for it, but Harry stopped him.

"Not tonight. Please? Just...not tonight." And he looked so sad and tired and Zayn couldn't possibly say no. So he hit "ignore" and set the phone to silent before curling up close to his boyfriend.

 

**۞**

"He's not answering, Sir." Said Agent Laurence's assistant, Demi. She was a pretty girl, with long, tan legs and lots of hair, but Agent Laurence wasn't interested. He'd been happily married to his wife for seventeen years. He sighed and told her to head out, it was late, before he went to his office, a stack of papers in his hands. Stan Lucas had been a national champion soccer star in college, and he had graduated with a degree in political science. He was a decent looking guy. He had died at age 24. He was found two years later. His body was just at the end stages of decomposition, so it was possible he was dumped just before they'd arrested Louis. But Louis wasn't answering the important questions about him.

"Sir," Laurence looked up at Demi who was standing in the doorway to his office, looking a bit frightened. Laurence had thought she'd already gone home. It _was_ after midnight.

"What is it, Miss Lovato?"

"They've found another body. It's Andrew Kavenaugh's."

"Where?" Agent Laurence inquired, standing up immediately and grabbing for his coat.

"In the Bay, just like Louis said."

“Try Dr. Malik again.”

 

**۞**

"Will that be all, Mr. Tomlinson?" Said an older female nurse who was standing outside Louis' cell. She'd just delivered the New York Times and a stack of blank computer paper, like he'd requested.

Janet Smith had been working at the asylum for many years. She'd seen many different things. She'd worked with serial killers, violent schizophrenics, and people with multiple personality disorders. She'd seen death and healing and she'd done it all without a hint of emotion. She was immune to their suffering. She'd learned long ago that caring for these people would be the death of her sanity.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Smith." Louis replied kindly. It was something about her air that the patients smelled. She was not one to be messed with; she was one to be respected.

When she left, Louis grabbed for the papers she'd sent through the food slider. He smiled to himself.

She'd left the paper clip on the computer paper.

 

 

**۞**

"The Anderson's were harder than the Kavenaughs. Mr. Anderson was on the police force in Brooklyn. Well built guy, weighed about 210 pounds, tall. His wife was a looker. Long legs and big breasts. I mean, she was one that every guy stopped to look at. Their neighbor, Mr. Thompson, he suffered a loss that night I can tell you that much.

"Their daughter was just like the mom: beautiful. Their son, however, he was the ugly duckling."

"His body is gone, too." Zayn replied, his voice low and lifeless. He had the file on the Anderson family sitting on his lap.

"Yes, it is." Was all Louis said before continuing his story. "Mr. Anderson's gun was hanging right next to the door, so I grabbed it when I first picked the lock. The alarm sounded, but I wasn't worried. Just another challenge. Mr. Anderson came running. I shot him in the knee and he crumpled like a bag of potatoes. Mrs. Anderson grabbed her kids and ran to the back of the house when they heard the gun shot. I didn't worry, though. I took my knife and I sliced Mr. Anderson's wrists slowly, making sure he was watching. His pupils were huge!

"I went and found the rest of the family. The daughter was crying and when I tried to pull her away from her mother, Mrs. Anderson started screaming. She asked me to take her instead, just leave the kids. So I grabbed her hands and pulled her up. She was wearing this wildly inappropriate dress. Her breasts were practically hanging out. What kind of mother wears that sort of thing in front of her kids? I slashed her wrists, too, and then her thighs. Her pretty thighs.

"Her daughter wouldn't shut the fuck up. Just like that little Kavenaugh bitch. I slit her stomach and watched her eyes drip tears all over the place. But the boy, the boy was silent. Through it all, he didn't say a word." Louis said, and for the first time, he looked frustrated. Finally, a problem he couldn't figure out. Something Zayn knew and he didn't.

"Leo Anderson was blind and mute, Mr. Tomlinson." Zayn said. And that made it so much worst. That this poor, twelve year old boy, had listened to his family die, but had been unable to see or say anything. Louis' eyes remained blank. "Where is his body, Louis?"

"Are you single, Dr. Malik?" Louis asked suddenly.

"No." Zayn replied. "Where is Leo Anderson's body?"

"Lucky girl, I imagine. How does she feel about me being your patient?"

" _That_ is none of your business, Mr. Tomlinson, now tell me where the boy's body is."

"I was in love once." Louis said, and his eyes stared out the window. "My beautiful sunshine, light of my life." His eyes returned to Zayn. "It's sad, when they leave. It's like something's been taken from you, you know?" And to Zayn, this sounded almost like a threat.

"Why did she leave?" He asked. He needed all the information Louis would give.

"His body is in Paradee Rose Garden." Louis said, standing. "And you already know the answer to that question. It's locked up inside your head; you just have to search for it."

As he left, realization dawned on Zayn. Louis had asked for him _by name_. Louis needed something that Zayn had. And the only way to do it was for Louis to need a reason to see a psychiatrist. He'd chosen Zayn out of hundreds of psychiatrists in the area.

As Zayn drove home, the unsettled feeling in his gut didn't go away. Instead, it got slowly worse until he felt he might throw up. When he got home, it was so bad that he stumbled on the steps up to the apartment and breathed deeply. His knees buckled and he fell onto the cold stone steps. Leo Anderson’s body was in Paradee Park. He’d been there two nights earlier, with Danny. He’d been right there.

He put his head between his knees and worked to control the heaving in his stomach. When he was finally breathing a little better, he stood. His bag felt a lot lighter than it used to. He opened it and his jaw locked.

His laptop was gone.

 

**۞**

Louis knew he had to work fast before Mrs. Smith came back. He opened the laptop and turned it on. When the login screen appeared, he clicked on the little question mark: _Something I can't live without._

Louis tried several different things: The names of his three sisters, his middle name, his foster parent's names, his real parent's names, but nothing worked. Weeks of working out answers from Dr. Malik were useless. He sighed and decided to go with plan B. He shut the laptop off and used the paperclip to pry open the bottom. His roommate at college had been a sort of tech genius and he'd shown Louis a small wire you could reconnect if you couldn't remember the password. It was risky. If you didn't do it correctly, you could lose all the data on the laptop, but Louis had practiced for months leading up to now. He knew exactly how much time he had.

When he turned the laptop back on, it immediately opened up Zayn's hard drive. He smiled as he opened Zayn’s files. He knew Zayn wasn't stupid enough to leave his patient's files on his laptop, but he _would_ have access to Zayn's GPS on his phone. He typed in a line of code. He'd seen Zayn's number on his lawyer's desk and had called to the store to get the serial number before they’d taken his own phone away.

Once there, he found the address he was looking for and then closed the laptop. When Janet returned, he managed to slide it into the exact same place Zayn had been seated. Luckily, it had fit right through the bottom crack on the cell and had been within reach of his small hands. Janet took a look at it and sighed, bringing it back with her to the front desk so she could contact Zayn and tell him that they had it. Louis smiled to himself and waited until Janet's footsteps disappeared down the hall. When they did, he took the paperclip and the chicken bone he'd sharpened with his teeth and managed to reach just outside the cell door and unlock it.

He was free.

 


	4. Sociopaths know how to control their behavior.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I almost lost Harry tonight, Ben." Zayn said quietly. "And nobody should ever have to suffer losing someone they love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note: This work does not contain cannibalism, but does contain some graphic depictions of violence. Viewer discretion is advised.)

 

"You're sure this is necessary? Agent Laurence said there was no way of proving he tampered with your laptop." Harry said from the passenger seat of Zayn's car. In the back were two bags: one loaded with a bunch of Harry's clothes and the other packed with everything else he'd need.

"Trust me, Haz. I've dealt with people like him for years. I know what he's capable of and I don't feel comfortable with you staying at the apartment."

"But you do?" Harry shot back. They were currently on their way to Danny and Ant's apartment where Harry would be staying because Zayn had determined their apartment unsafe. Danny had graciously offered up his place in an effort to calm Zayn down.

"I'm going to be spending most of my time helping the police track him down. And if he comes to the apartment when I'm there, I know how to handle him."

"And if he has a knife? Or some other weapon?"

Zayn stayed silent. Harry nodded, as if he expected as much, and settled into his seat. When they pulled up to the apartment, there was a moment of complete silence in which Zayn stared straight ahead and Harry stared at Zayn.

"I need you to do this for me, Harry." Zayn finally said quietly.

"Why is he so different from all the rest? Why is he after _you_?"

"I don't know, Haz!" Zayn said, his hands slamming violently into the steering wheel causing Harry to jump. Another moment of silence fell between them before Zayn spoke again, softer. "I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out."

Harry opened the door and got out of the car. He opened the back door and grabbed his bag before turning to face Zayn who was standing beside his opened door, staring over the top of the car at Harry. His expression was unreadable. Harry had tears in his eyes.

"If you get hurt, I will never forgive you." He said before turning and heading towards Danny and Ant's apartment door. Zayn followed silently behind, his heart aching because he knew he was hurting Harry by pushing him away, out of the equation. But he didn't know what else to do. If Louis got a hold of him....Zayn couldn't let that happen.

Michelle greeted them at the door and ushered them inside. She went ahead and showed Harry to the guest room he'd be staying in while Zayn found Danny and Ant in the living room, standing and watching him.

"Thank you," Zayn said quietly and Danny nodded.

"Everything's going to be fine, right?" Danny asked, and Zayn could tell he was nervous. He understood why. Zayn hadn't slept in forty-eight hours and looked like he'd been through hell and back. Things had never gotten this bad before. His job and _life_ had never been threatened in this way, and most definitely not Harry's.

"It should only be for a few days. Just long enough for us to catch him."

"And if you don't?"

Zayn's eyes locked on Ant's. He was always one to ask the hardest of questions. The questions Zayn really couldn't answer.

"I have to get back to the station." Zayn mumbled before heading for the front door. Harry appeared at his side and they were quiet for a little bit. Danny, Ant, and Michelle all went their different ways to give them some semblance of privacy.

"I love you." Harry said softly, his forehead resting against Zayn's.

"I love you, too, Hazza. And I _will_ make this right, okay?"

"After this, we're going on vacation, okay? Someplace warm and sunny. No patients or work calls. Just you and me, alright." It wasn't a question. Zayn nodded and cupped the sides of Harry's face gently, kissing him softly before placing a small kiss on his forehead. Then he was out the door and back on the road. He would never admit to anyone that he cried during the drive back. Leaving Harry felt far too much like goodbye for his liking. He hated Louis even more for that.

**۞**

 

"We need to start by looking at all the areas that bodies have been dumped." Agent Laurence began. The meeting room he was standing in was filled with fourteen police officer seated two to a table, with Agent Laurence, the FBI Director, Scott Browning, and Zayn standing in the front. Zayn was the only one who wasn't carrying a gun.

"That means we need to be focusing on Bay Ridge and Paradee Rose Garden. And all the surrounding areas. And, obviously, Dr. Malik’s apartment must be under watch at all times."

"What about the areas around where his victims lived?" Asked one officer.

"It's unlikely he'd go there." Zayn said, stepping forward. "They meant nothing to him, so it's doubtful he'd go back. The places he chose to dump the bodies, though, are public areas. Easily accessible and readily available with shelter and food sources nearby."

After the officers were dismissed, Agent Laurence spoke softly with Zayn.

"How did things go with Harry?"

"He's angry, as expected. But I think he understands that I just need him to be safe."

"You did the best you could, Zayn."

"I'll feel better about it when Louis is caught and things can go back to normal."

 

**۞**

Louis didn't even try the front door when he found Zayn's apartment. He knew there was no way Zayn would be leaving it unlocked any time soon, so he made his way around back and, as predicted, the window was easily opened and Louis could effortlessly slip inside. The insides weren't exactly what he was expecting. While it was clear there were two people living in the apartment, there was nothing exactly _feminine_ about it. And while it was possible that Zayn had a roommate instead of living with his girlfriend, it was quite obvious that only one bedroom was in use. So, where were the ladies’ things?

As Louis went through the drawers, he started noticing other things. Like the amount of shirts and jeans that were clearly too big or too long for Zayn's body. Or the fact that there were two male razors in bathroom. And there were notes on the refrigerator door for someone named _Harry_. And it hit Louis, then, that maybe he'd misjudged Zayn. And maybe, just maybe, this could work in his favor, because he and Zayn, they were two of a kind.

He left the apartment some time later feeling better than ever before. _Soon_ , he kept telling himself. _Soon, you'll have it all._

 

  **۞**

Three weeks of not finding anything were starting to gnaw at Zayn. He didn't sleep well, listening for every little sound in the middle of the night. His other patients were getting restless with his constant tuning out and some had even asked to switch psychiatrists. Even Cody Simpson, who suffered from severe depression, told his medical doctor that Zayn was starting to seem more depressed than he was.

All in all, things weren't going well.

"Take a break, Zayn." Harry said one night, when Zayn caved and drove to Danny and Ant's place just to see him. "You can't help your patients if you can't even help yourself." and there was really no argument for that. So he'd slept a couple hours with Harry curled up next to him before he'd had to drive back to the precinct.

Agent Laurence was getting restless, too. As were all the officers on the case. It was almost as if Louis had vanished into thin air.

"I can't take this! What if he never shows up?"

"He's out there somewhere, Zayn. We just have to wait him out." Director Browning said.

"How long will we have to wait? I can't do this for even another week, let alone the _years_ it could take."

"Go home, Zayn. It's late. Get some sleep, and maybe stay away for a couple of days. Clear your head. You're not helping anyone." And maybe people should stop telling him that he couldn't help anyone because saying that wasn't helping _him_ feel any better.

Zayn knew something was wrong when the door to the apartment was unlocked, because it was _never_ unlocked when no one was home and the only other person with a key was Harry. And Harry promised he wouldn't come back until Zayn said it was okay.

He gently pushed the door open and reached for the gun in its holster on his belt. The gun Agent Laurence had been adamant that he take with him everywhere until Louis was taken care of. He slowly stepped into the apartment and listened. There were no sounds to be heard. He made his way out of the entryway and into the living room, not daring to take off his boots in case he needed to run fast. As he stepped into the living room, he could see that there was a light coming from his and Harry's bedroom. Like a lamp was on in the room. It was dim, so he couldn't make anything out.

Then, just as he was about to take another step forward, his gun pointing forward, Harry stepped out of the room. Zayn sighed in relief until he saw that Harry's face was a ghostly white and there was someone behind him. The light in the living room flicked on and there was Louis. He grabbed Harry into a headlock, knife to his throat and Harry whimpered. His eyes were begging Zayn to help him.

"Now, this is _definitely_ not was I expected from you, Dr. Malik." Louis said, his voice holding a happy note. Like he wasn't ten seconds from slaughtering Zayn's boyfriend and ending up with a bullet in his head.

"And what was it you were _expecting_?" Zayn asked, matching Louis' casual tone.

"I could never have foretold that your lovely _woman_ was _actually_ a sweet little boy. How well you kept this secret. You deserve a standing ovation, really."

"I'm very good at my job." Was all Zayn said, his gun still pointed firmly at Louis' head. He couldn't take the shot, however, without taking the risk of hitting Harry, too.

"I can see that. But my, how pretty he is. I almost hate what's about to happen." Zayn could see the knife pressing harder into Harry's throat, but Harry didn't cry out. Zayn realized with pang in his chest that Harry was staying strong for _him_. After a short pause, Louis started to laugh. " _Something I can't live without._ Your password is "Harry" isn't it?"

"Why did you do it? Why me?" Zayn asked. Anything to keep Louis' mind occupied and away from Harry. Just long enough for an escape route.

"Where's Niall, Dr. Malik?" Louis asked suddenly. Zayn was confused. Who the hell was Niall?

"I beg your pardon?"

"Where. Is. Niall. Horan?" Louis spat out, glaring at Zayn. It took a moment for Zayn to process the question before suddenly, all the pieces fell together. Louis talking about having someone you love being taken, about the pain of watching people slip away. Niall Horan: the delusional patient Zayn had treated two years earlier.

"Niall Horan is the person you're in love with."

"So the parts are finally starting to fit together, are they? It's your fault he's gone, Dr. Malik. It's _all your fault!_ "

"All this, for a boy?"

"He's the love of my fucking _life_ , _Doctor_ Malik. Surely you can understand what it feels like. Or at least, you will." Louis' hand moved and slid firmly against the skin at Harry's wrists. Harry let out a loud cry and Zayn squeezed his eyes shut. Louis was still holding him. He couldn't shoot. Harry was bleeding onto the wood floor and Zayn worked very hard to control his breathing. To stay calm. He needed to stay calm. If he was calm, Harry would remain calm.

"Niall Horan suffered from delusions, Louis. He didn't know what was real and what wasn't."

"He knew _I_ was real. He _knew it_." Louis shouted, and there were tears leaking out his eyes. "All of this. _All of it_ was planned from the moment you took him away. Nobody would tell me where he was because I wasn't "family." I've lived with and loved this boy for five years! How does _that_ not count as _fucking family?_

"I knew I'd need to do something drastic to get a hold of you. So I just...went ballistic. I started searching for families that had it coming anyways, and I went for it. I sliced them up and made them suffer the way I suffered. I took from them just like you took from me." By this time, Harry was starting to look very sick, and the puddle of blood on the floor was reaching dangerous proportions.

"It couldn't have worked any better, you coming in that day. Because it gave me a more solid reason for asking for you for the trial, and then after the trial. At first, I thought I could just plead with you. Get you to send me where he was, but I could see it in your eyes. You didn't want to help me. You didn't give a _damn_ where I went after you were through with me.

"So, I'm asking you now. Where. Is. Niall?"

"Louis, we can talk-"

"HE DOESN'T HAVE MUCH TIME LEFT! HURRY THE FUCK UP AND TELL ME WHERE NIALL IS!” Louis screeched just as Harry slipped out of his grip and Louis lunged for Zayn.

A loud _pop_ echoed in the room and Zayn's ears rang. Louis screamed and fell to his knees, a small bullet hole in his thigh. But the bullet hadn't come from Zayn's gun.

"Put your hands where we can see them." Came the voice of one of the three S.W.A.T. guys who'd entered the apartment through the bedroom window. Louis gaped at Zayn and held his hands up in surrender.

"Like I said, Mr. Tomlinson." Zayn said coldly. "I'm _very_ good at my job."

As the men handcuffed Louis and one EMT wrapped the bullet wound on his thigh, another EMT quickly helped stop the bleeding in Harry's wrist. Zayn was sitting on the floor with Harry’s head in his lap, petting his hair and working not to freak out. Harry had lost a lot of blood, and the EMT kept saying he'd be fine, but he wouldn't feel safe until Harry awoke and he could see those green eyes staring back at him.

When the EMT told him they had to take Harry to the hospital, Zayn let them. He followed them to the door and watched them load him into the ambulance. He turned just in time to see the men leading Louis towards the door. Louis stopped limping long enough to lean up and whisper in Zayn's ear before he passed.

"What would you have done?" He pleaded. "If I'd taken him from you, what would you have done?" And then they led him outside and into the police cruiser they'd be taking him away with. Zayn dropped onto the cement stairs outside his apartment and watched as people drove away.

"Dr. Malik, I'm sure it's been a very hard night for you, so we can save the questioning for tomorrow when you're rested, but I have to ask." Agent Laurence said. Zayn stared up at him from his seat on the stairs. "Why you?"

"I treated his boyfriend, Niall Horan, a few years back. He suffered from extreme delusions. He'd always tell me about the different places he'd been, like France and Guam and Bolivia. About a boy he was in love with." Zayn paused and sighed. "I didn't realize that he was a real."

"Why'd you send him away?"

"He called me at three a.m. one morning and told me he'd killed someone and that he needed my help to hide the body. I thought he'd made that up, too, since when the police and I arrived there was no sign of any body or anything. But I sent him away in case it _did_ happen. Little did I know he had been telling the truth then, too."

"He killed someone? Who?" Agent Laurence asked, his eyes widening.

"I didn't get it until tonight, actually. Stan Lucas. You said he was 24 when he died but that the body was found two years later. Niall Horan killed him and Louis Tomlinson dropped the body in the Bay before he was taken in."

"He did all this. For a boy?"

"I need you to do something for me, Agent." Zayn said suddenly.

"Anything. After what you've been through, you deserve whatever you want."

"I need you to send Louis to Ridgeview Institute in Smyrna, Georgia."

"Why there?"

"That's where Niall is."

"You want to _reward_ Mr. Tomlinson?" Agent Laurence asked incredulously.

"I almost lost Harry tonight, Ben." Zayn said quietly. "And nobody should ever have to suffer losing someone they love." After a moment of silence, Agent Laurence nodded.

"I'll see to it."

Then it was just Zayn.

**۞**

"I'll just wait here." Harry said from the passenger seat of Zayn's car. In the back were two bags: one loaded with a bunch of Harry's clothes and the other packed with everything else he'd need. It struck Zayn how eerily similar this was to the car ride they'd had a year earlier.

"You sure?"

"Do you honestly think I want to see him, Zayn? You're the one who needs closure, not me." And Harry was right, really. Zayn was the one who had to talk to _another_ psychiatrist about the post traumatic stress he'd developed from almost watching his boyfriend, now fiancé, bleed to death in his living room. Zayn often awoke in a sweaty mess, screaming for Louis to let Harry go. Harry had long since gotten used to comforting him while still half asleep himself. Zayn found it silly. He was the psychiatrist; he was the one who was supposed to help people through their mental afflictions. He shouldn't be dealing with this while Harry was the one who had a two inch long scar on his wrist from Louis' knife.

"If you're sure," Zayn said, biting his lip. Harry smiled and tugged him close, kissing him softly before pushing him out of the car. Zayn walked slowly towards the building and up to the front desk.

"How may I help you?" Said a lovely girl at the front desk. Her nametag read: Shannyn. She looked a lot like Eleanor, Zayn's first patient.

"I'm Dr. Malik. I have an appointment to see Dr. Grimshaw." Shannyn nodded and picked up the phone on her desk. She hit the numbers 7-2-2 and lifted it to her ear.

"Dr. Grimshaw, there's a Dr. Malik here for you. He says he has an appointment." She listened for a moment before hanging up and smiling at Zayn. "His office is down that hallway and the second door on the right." She said pointing to Zayn's left. Zayn thanked her and moved towards Dr. Grimshaw's office. He knocked once and was greeted by a tall man with curly brown hair and a kind smile.

"Welcome, Dr. Malik." He said with a warm handshake.

"I suppose you know why I'm here."

"I assume you want to see what our Mr. Tomlinson is up to."

"You assume right." Zayn said softly. Dr. Grimshaw nodded and led him down a maze of hallways until they were in front of a glass wall that showed a lounge area behind it. Sitting on the couch was Louis, his light blue T-shirt and white pants looked soft and new. His hair was a spiky mess that looked soft as a pillow and his blue eyes seemed happier than he'd ever seen them. They were aimed at a mop of blond hair sitting on the floor in front of him, in the same blue T-shirt/white pants combo. Niall was playing some Nintendo game while Louis watched, his hands digging firmly into Niall's hair. They looked content.

"How has he been?"

"He doesn't say much, really. Only really talks to Niall. But they're both happy and I'm glad Louis isn't causing any of the problems he caused for you." Dr. Grimshaw said the last bit quietly so as not to upset Zayn.

"All he wanted was Niall." Was Zayn's reply.

"Would you like to talk to him?"

"No, my fiancé and I are going to Miami for a long awaited vacation, so I shouldn't keep him waiting. I just needed to see that everything ended alright, even if I kind of hate him a little."

"Understandable. Well, I must attend to some business, so I'll leave you in peace. Have a great vacation, Dr. Malik."

"Thank you," Zayn replied as he watched Niall grin up at Louis. Louis responded by leaning down and kissing him softly. Niall turned back to the game and that was when Louis looked up and his and Zayn's eyes locked. Neither moved nor looked away for a long while. Zayn lifted his hand in a wave before taking a deep breath. As he turned to leave, he saw Louis' mouth move. He'll never know if Louis said the words out loud, or if he simply mouthed them, but the message stayed the same:

_Thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I got it finished! Hope it was to your guys' liking! I appreciate all the lovely feedback you guys gave me and I'm so thankful you guys chose to read this! Hope this ending was everything you hoped it would be!
> 
> Cheers <3


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